


Love in Strange Places

by faoil



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:24:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6529219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faoil/pseuds/faoil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My first fic. Possibly WIP. Also unbetaed and English is not my native language, so please be gentle...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love in Strange Places

 

The fight was vicious and went on longer than five against one seemed to warrant. For a while Bodie gave as good as he got, blood running freely from his split lips and a cut on his cheek. Then the lads resorted to more extreme measures. The pipe to his ribs, the cracking sound of them breaking slowed him down, but it took the bullet to his thigh to stop him.

 

Doyle ran when he heard the racket, his heart pounding. Infighting in a group like this was never a good sign. God knows tempers were high. They had been sitting on their pile of weapons and bombs for almost a week now, waiting for the go from Headquarters. Doyle grimaced. They were just as likely to blow themselves to pieces with the stuff as be a danger to the unassuming English public. Doyle would have pulled out of this assignment days ago if Cowley'd let him. In his opinion he'd gotten all the info he was going to get from this mob. He knew where the weapons were, he knew all the locations for possible attacks and CI5 had confirmed the identities of all the participants of this merry group of men. If they didn't catch them in the act it was no bother, they all had outstanding warrants against them. To be honest, Bodie had already given them all the relevant info, having joined the group a fortnight ago. Doyle had only gone in as back up last week. And he wanted them both out, preferably now. He didn't like what this obo was doing to his partner. Reliving the bad old merc days never seemed to do him any good and to Doyle's eyes he was already worn down, dark shadows under his eyes bellying his fatigue.

 

Cowley, though, not only wanted the grunts, he wanted the financers, the ones pulling the strings from behind. Doyle knew they weren't likely to get those names out of this lot. Most of them had been hired by independent contractors, just like Bodie and himself and just didn't know who they were working for, only that the money was good. He'd told Cowley as much, but the old bastard didn't listen.

 

He'd just rounded the corner when saw Jackson raise his gun and point it at his partner. The sound of the shot reverberated through the little yard and seemed to echo like thunder in his head. His blood froze as he saw Bodie spin and drop to the ground hard. Then he saw him, still struggling in the grips of his attackers and his heart started beating again. He was alive. Four against one. Bastards. And cowards. No wonder they felt the need to use a gun, Bodie might still have taken them all he thought viciously.

 

Almost the entire mob had come out to see what was happening and they stood in a menacing circle around Bodie. There was no chance for Doyle to get Bodie out of this mess with everyone there. He didn't even have his gun with him.

As two of them held Bodie tightly between them as Dawson, their leader stepped forward, red in the face with suppressed anger.

 

"What the hell is going on here!"

 

Some new guy Dolye hadn't seen in the camp before answered him calmly.

 

"Bodie here lied to us, sir. He is no bloody merc. He's CI5!"

 

"And who the fuck are you?!"

 

"I'm O'Malley, sir, radio expert. I just arrived today. Peters recruited me."

 

Doyle's heart sank. Peters was one step above Dawson, if the little, skinny guy was really sent by him Dawson was going to believe him. This whole mess was spinning out of control fast and Doyle couldn't do a damn thing to stop it.

 

"Tell me, O'Malley, how would you know something like that?"

 

"Sir, I was working for an IRA fraction on the job before this one. He almost busted me, sir."

 

Shit! Fucking shit! Doyle could see the anger in Dawson's eyes change to cold calculation as he turned them on Bodie.

 

"Tie him up."

 

One of them sprinted away only to come back seconds later with heavy chains. They chained his hands behind his back and looped the chain around his waist for good measure. He heard the aborted grunt of pain Bodie made when they pulled it tight and closed the lock. When they let him go he fell to his knees. Another stifled moan escaped him. Apart from that he was dead silent.

 

Doyle cursed silently. Bodies cover was well and truly blown. He let his eyes rover over him quickly assessing the damage. He looked like crap. They'd really worked him over. The bullet had gone into his thigh, and from the way he was holding himself his ribs were at least cracked, too. His naturally pale skin was already translucent with blood loss. The light of early dawn gave it a bluish tint as if he were already dead. Doyle's heart jumped. Bad medicine, thoughts like that. Doyle thought feverishly through ways to get them out of this mess and at the same time focused all his self-control into the task off not ripping apart everyone in sight. While he would give anything to do that, the odds were against him he knew all that would accomplish was to blow his own cover.

 

Dawson stood before Bodie.

 

"You got anything to say for yourself, Bodie?"

 

Bodie remained silent, gaze fixed on the ground before him.

 

"That's what I thought."

 

Dawson raised his hand and very deliberately backhanded him in the face hard. The force of the blow rocked Bodie and he almost fell to the floor. More blood spilled from his split lip. But he did not utter a sound. He righted himself and kept his eyes down.

 

Bodie was afraid. Not for himself, his life was as good as over and whatever was left of it would be filled with pain, of that he was certain. But Doyle's didn't have to be.

 

He was just glad that Doyle and he had gone into the op separately. Doyle was safe and he vowed that he would do anything to keep it that way if it was the last thing he did. He just hoped that Doyle with his bleeding heart wouldn't mess this up himself by going easy on him. He didn't dare look at him, not trusting either of them to give nothing away should their eyes lock.

 

"I say we shoot him." Jackson, the bloodthirsty bastard.

 

He still had his gun in his hand and now he pointed it loosely at the head of the figure huddled on the ground.

 

Doyle tensed. Damn, but he would have to think quick if he wanted to prevent Bodies brains spattered on the drab grey concrete yard.

 

Bodie kept his head bent, not looking anywhere but the floor. Doyle knew he would never give his partner away, not by begging for his live, not even with his eyes. A fierce ache made itself known in his heart for a second, prompting him into action. He couldn't loose him, not like this, not while he stood there watching, and not with Bodie so resigned to the fact. Bloody idiot. He said the first thing that came to his mind.

 

"Now wait a minute, lads. He betrayed us all, why do you get to have all the fun, Jackson? I want my own pound of his flesh before we off him!"

 

Doyle leered and prayed to God that he would be able to pull this off. And thanked whoever was listening when Martin, off to his right, sounded the voice of reason.

 

"Might get some info out of him at the same time."

 

Dawson, the leader of the little terrorist cell nodded.

 

"Yeah, they're right, Jackson. Take that thing down."

 

Jacksons voice dripped with hate.

 

"He won't tell us anything! They are trained to withstand that kind of shit at CI5."

 

"Just give me some time, I'll get him to talk."

 

Doyle couldn't believe he'd said that but there it was.

 

Dawson looked at him sharply, then nodded.

 

"Yeah, Doyle, you can have a go at him."

 

And then he turned his fierce gaze on Jackson.

 

"I said, take it down, man!"

 

Jackson grimaced, clearly not pleased by the order and by being deprived of his fun by Doyle of all people, but he put the safety back on and stowed the gun in his holster. Something in Doyle unclenched when the immediate threat to his partner’s life was eliminated but he kept his guard. He knew Jackson had disliked him from the start and would do anything to challenge his victory. And he didn't like the keen looks on the faces of the toughened men around him when he'd talked about roughing up the snitch. Best to jump in first. Couldn't hit him, though. Much to risky with the injuries he already had, and Bodie would need all his strength to be able to escape.

 

"Pleasure first, fun later," he said, his voice dripping with fabricated glee while his heart pounded in his chest as if it would explode any minute.

 

Sweat beaded on his upper lip when he took a decisive step into the circle of men, right into Bodies space and reached his hand out for the silky dark hair of the man kneeling in front of him. Bodie was even paler than usual, his blue eyes half shut in an effort to keep in the pain, his blood painting his mouth an obscene red. His beautiful mouth.

 

Bodie tried to prepare himself for the blows that were sure to come, surprised, when instead a strong hand stroked through his hair before gripping it so tight it brought involuntary tears to his eyes.

 

"Gonna make you my bitch." Doyle growled as if only for his captive but intent that his onlookers hear him. He tightened his grip in the fine strands of hair and pulled the up-tilted face towards his crotch, rubbed his covered cock against it.

 

Bodie gasped in shocked surprise when Doyle pressed his face into his crotch. All stoicism forgotten, he started to struggled for real. Trust Doyle to find the one thing he could hurt him most with without even trying.

 

Doyle heard Bodie hiss in pain, as he worked his back muscles, trying to get away but with his hands shackled behind his back he had no leverage. That and the bullet wound in his leg and the probably cracked ribs, Doyle thought sourly to himself. Then he locked the door on any and all thoughts of compassion or he knew he wouldn't be able to go through with it.

 

With one hand he made short work of his zip and trousers while with the other he kept the punishing grip on Bodie.

 

Bodie swallowed down a sob as Doyle held him securely with one hand while readying himself with the other.

 

"Make it good, bitch, and no teeth or I'll pull 'em one by one, make myself a nice hole of you."

 

Bodie bit back a moan of denial or pain, Doyle didn't know but it carved his heart into pieces nonetheless. Doyle was vaguely aware that now was the moment when he should realize that he just couldn't do it, look into the dark, desperate eyes of his best mate and not be able to hurt and get it up at the same time. But when his eyes found the familiar face, he knew that he could and that he would. He didn't want to know what that said about him.

He gripped his own cock, already half hard and gave it a couple of short, hard strokes. Then he stepped closer to the kneeling man, bent his head back farther, overstretching it, making Bodie open up. Without further hesitation he plunged inside the wet heat. God, it was heaven. Soft and hot, no finesse, but still it got him going something fierce. The hazy thought drifted by that, when all of this was over, he should get his head examined. It vanished quickly and he cupped the beautiful face with his free hand, his thumb digging into one soft cheek to make him open wider and plunged into the bared throat. His cock was milked by chocking muscles and it didn't take him long, not long at all to spill his seed down his partners throat. He'd thought he might pull out to shoot his load, give Bodie at least that while at the same time proving to the others that he really had enjoyed it by giving them visual evidence. But it was too much, too intense. When he pulled his cock out of the soft mouth, allowing Bodie to draw wheezing breath after breath, it was coated in his semen and Bodies blood. It was darkly poetic and Doyle's heart beat hard against his ribcage at the sight. He was light headed, cold sweat running down his back, disgust with himself churning in his gut.

A glimpse of tear-washed blue eyes, framed by spiky, soot black lashes, nearly cost him his composure. Carefully avoiding looking at Bodies face again he did himself up, the action accompanied by whistles and catcalls.

 

Bodie ached inside. While he had been fighting for every single breath, trying to calm his body's reactions to the intrusion Doyles scent and his taste had filled him fully. He was glad for the discomfort of the act, since it was suitable cover for his still leaking eyes. The transformation of an act he had longed to perform for Doyle for such a long time, into this vile parody of it broke something inside him.

 

 

"Ok, lads, show's over. Come on Terry, help me get him inside for the real stuff."

 

He heaved him up by his arm. Bodie grunted in badly concealed pain. His right leg couldn't take any weight at all and he would have crumbled to the floor despite Doyle's bruising grip if one Terry hadn't stepped in.

 

Together they brought him into one of the small storage cages that lined the back wall of the warehouse. Terry chained his legs to an iron ring in the floor and they left his hands shackles behind his back.

 

"Need to get some stuff before I start," Doyle said, a plan formulating in his mind.

 

"Yeah? What stuff?" Terry looked at him suspiciously.

 

"Just some stuff that'll hurt him real nice, some drugs that have been known to make men talk, that kind of thing."

  
Doyle made sure to bring that glint of steel into his eyes that made the most hardened men talk in interrogation.

 

Terry looked at him appraisingly, then shrugged and walked out of the cell with him. The iron bars of the gate clanged when he closed them and locked them behind him. He threw the keys at Doyle, then shuffled out.

 

A pressure headache started to build in Doyle's head and he wished he could just turn around, unlock the door, grab Bodie and run for it. It took all his self-control to put one foot in front of the other and walk out of the little shed to prepare their escape.

 

Doyle searched out Dawson to clear his absence, to give him an excuse to get into his car and leave without arousing suspicion, hoping that that would give them some time. The reason of needing instruments for making the hardened CI5 agent talk, worked just as well on Dawson as it had on Terry and within minutes he was back on his way to Bodie, a small piece of metal he had fashioned into a makeshift lock-pick concealed in the flat of his palm.

 

Bodie moaned. His head and the bullet wound ached fiercely with every beat of his heart, his ribs with even the shallowest breaths he tried to take. His mouth was still filled with the taste of his own blood and the bitter tang of semen. Nausea threatened with every forced swallow of his bruised throat that brought home again what he had endured. With his whole being he concentrated on taking one even breath after the other and keeping it all down, the contents of his stomach as well as the memories, the feel of Doyle's hands on him.

 

Drifting in the shadowed valleys of pain a sort of daze came over him and Bodie didn't know how much time had passed when he heard the sounds of steps drawing nearer. He instinctively knew it was Doyle. He shuddered, gut lurching. Then called himself a fool. He'd had worse, much, much worse before. That it seemed like nothing compared to the agony he felt now was his own fault really, for falling in love with Doyle.

 

Before he could lock it all up inside him again he was there. The door opened and he dared one look at his partners face. He flinched at the menace he found there and quickly averted his eyes, lest they spill his secrets and get them both killed.

 

Just as Dolye had opened the lock and was about to step into the cell he heard Terry's voice from the shadows.

 

"What you doin'? Thought you were gonna come back later?"

 

"Just a farewell kiss for my new love," Doyle smirked. Then bent down to the prostrate form of his partner.

 

Bodie couldn't help a grunt of pain escaping as deft hands turned him onto his back with no regard for his ribs. Sweat broke out, cold on his skin and he couldn't calm his racing heart when those hands ripped open his shirt, pushed it away, baring his chest to icy eyes. God no, please not. Please not that.

 

Paying his silent prayers for reprieve no heed Doyle started to caress his chest his throat, searching out bruises, pressing them almost gently and awakening worlds of pain with the simplest touch. Much to his chagrin Bodie whimpered and tried to curl in on himself, but in vain. Suddenly the hands gripped him tight, pressed him to the floor, one hand on his throat keeping him immobile the other meandering down over his body towards his groin. Doyle hovered above him, his intense gaze seeming to pierce him, and burn him down to nothing, his chipped tooth gleaming in the half-dark. He licked his lips obscenely, some unrecognizable emotion distorting his uneven face.

 

"You and me, sunshine, we're going to have so much fun together." Doyle's voice was harsh and sounded foreign to Bodie, full of barely concealed hunger and lust for violence.

 

"And you know what? I'll even teach you to like it before I'm through with you. Make you my little whore. Make you beg for it, you cunt."

 

Doyle emphasized his words by squeezing his cock and balls hard, making Bodie flinch and ripping a pained gasp from him.

 

Doyle leaned down further, almost covering Bodie now, running the tip of his nose over Bodies neck, into his hairline, as if smelling his territory.

 

His breath tickled Bodies ear while he whispered softly, all the while keeping his bruising grip on Bodies throat, moving his hand under the cover of his own body to jam something under the chains circling his wrists.

 

"Use the left corridor, there is no one there, go into the yard and get into the capri's trunk. You have ten minutes. Be there, Bodie, or I swear to God..."

Abruptly Doyle hoisted himself up, and his next words were louder and full of threat.

 

"Don't move, petal, I'll be right back, just gonna get us some toys."

 

The glimmer in his eyes was positively unholy. Bodie curled in on himself as soon as he let him. His heart was racing, pumping loud in his ears drowning out everything else his breath came in heaving pants. He didn't need to fake the fear for any onlookers, it was very real. Through a dark mist he saw Doyle's boots receding through the door, out along the corridor. It took him a minute to realize the absence of the sound of iron interlocking with iron and piece together in his jumbled mind what it meant. Doyle had left the door open.

 

Doyle was filled with disgust when he walked out of the cell. Mostly disgust with himself. How could he ... how could he enjoy it when it was obvious his partner was in pain. It didn't help his piece of mind that the erection bulging his tight jeans supported his cover, that the charade had been necessary. But there was no time to think about it now. Terry was still there, lurking in the shadows. He went over to him, laying a companionable arm around his shoulders and dragged him with him to the door.

 

"Don't start without me, eh? Don't want him spoiled before I get back."

 

Terry snorted and pushed his arm away, but came out with him anyway.

 

Doyle wiped his sweating hands on his jeans and spent ten minutes searching for his car keys while he had them in his jacket pocket, to give Bodie enough time.

 

For a second hopelessness gripped Bodie. How the hell was he supposed to pick his locks and crawl his way out in just 10 minutes when it seemed too much effort to just breathe? There was nothing for it though.

 

Wiping the cold sweat from his hands he pulled the piece of metal out from where it was lodged painfully against his wrist and started on the lock that kept the chains tight. It took him longer than he liked, but he was sweaty, dizzy with blood loss and his hands kept sliding on the little metal rod. When he heard the click he allowed himself the space of a few breaths to regain his cool and then groaning sat up to get to work on his leg restraints. He didn't know how much time had passed; the fear that he was already too late was sour at the back of his throat.

 

Finally the second lock gave and he was rid of the heavy irons. He breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short lived when he realized that he couldn't stand up. His leg just wouldn't hold and with every movement he could feel blood trickling out of the wound. He gritted his teeth and crawled towards the door. He gripped the iron bars with his hands and inch by inch levered himself up.

 

He stumbled out of the tiny holding cell and, heeding Doyle's words turned left using the wall for support the whole time. He cursed when he looked behind and saw that he was leaving behind a very nice blood trail on the filthy floor. There was nothing he could do about it though, so he just carried on step by painful step. After about ten paces he found a rickety side door that led out into the open yard and he stepped through it, out into the balmy night.

 

Doyle's skin itched. He felt like a thousand eyes were boring into him and expected his game to be up, to get a bullet in his back any minute. He just hoped Bodie had made it in time because he did not have a plan B. Oh, he wouldn't go down without a fight, would try to take as many as he could down with him. He just hoped to God that it wouldn't come to that. It never even crossed his mind to leave without his partner or to carry on the mission until he received orders that said otherwise. If it was just his own life on the line he wouldn't be half as nervous as this. But he couldn't bear the thought of Bodie going down while he just stood there and watched. Unconsciously his breathing had fastened and he was almost running on his way through the corridors and across the yard.

He forced himself to slow down as he walked to the car under the watchful gaze of the night guard at the gate. He gave a lazy salute and went to the drivers side, bypassing the trunk. God he hoped Bodie had made it, he had to have, they wouldn't get another chance at this. He wished he couldn't check but knew he couldn't without arousing suspicion.

With his hands shaking ever so slightly he unlocked the car and got in. He had the key in the ignition already, when he hesitated. What if Bodie really hadn't made it. If he left now, alone, he knew he would never see Bodie again alive. He wavered in indecision, sweat running down his face, conscious of the guards wary gaze on him, when he heard a muffled thump from the trunk barely audible over the hectic beating of his own heart. Dolye jumped, then relaxed. Good old Bodie, always knew what his golly was thinking. Giddy with relief he started the car and drove away sedately although he wanted nothing more than to punch it. He waited till the gate was out of sight and then accelerated smoothly, mindful of his hurt partner in the trunk.

 

His thoughts raced while he maneuvered the car on the narrow back roads that surrounded the dilapidated farm where they'd been staying. They knew Bodie was CI5 and once they noticed that he'd taken their captive with him they would assume that he was, too. They'd probably think that they were trying to make it back south to London, back to HQ and reinforcements. So Doyle decided to head north. Try to get to that army base in the lowlands where Cowley had sent them to for one of the more memorable training sessions with Maclin and just hope the commander there remembered them. They'd get medical attention for Bodie there and get in touch with Cowley, let him get them out of this mess.

 

He drove on for another 15 miles before he dared stop to get Bodie out of the trunk. During that time relief that they had made it out in one piece and that no one was following them so far was overshadowed by an acute sense of guilt. Bodie, bloody and on his knees in front of him, Bodie, chained down in a dank cell and him touching... he gripped the steering wheel tighter and tried to get those images out of his mind, but they kept coming.

He stopped the car hidden from view behind a dilapidated, old church and jumped out, almost loosing his footing on the dusty ground in his haste to get to his partner. He opened the trunk and felt faint with relief when he was greeted by Bodies baby blues. He had really gotten them out, all he had done had not been in vain. He released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

 

"God!"

 

"Nah, just good old me, just Bodie. Give us a hand out of here, will you, sunshine?"

 

Doyles breath almost caught on a sob that he just managed to turn into a relieved laugh. He grabbed for Bodies arms and at the solid feel of him under his hands all the tension from the last hours faded so abruptly it left him dizzy. Carefully he levered him out of the car and let him glide to the floor, leaning against a tire.

 

"Bodie, I am so, so sorry. I wish there would have been another way, but I couldn't think ... I mean..."

 

"Shh, it's ok, it's ok. You did good Doyle, were both ok."

 

He nodded and got up quickly, to hide the wetness of his eyes and to grab the first aid kit from the trunk.

 

He almost hesitated to touch Bodie, afraid that he might flinch away. He made his touch as impersonal and reassuring as he could as he quickly and deftly tore the hole in the trousers bigger and repositioned the leg so he could see the bullet wound better. Bodie moaned in pain but endured his touch without any other visible discomfort and Doyle thought maybe it was that easy, maybe they could really be ok. He checked for an exit wound at the back of Bodies powerful thigh but the skin there was unmarred. Meant the bullet was still inside.

 

"Shit. Sorry, can't get it out now, Bodie, can't see a damn thing."

 

"I know, it's alright. Just patch it up."

 

Doyle ripped open a pack of antiseptic wipes and cleaned the area around the wound as best as he could. In the dark the bullet hole looked almost black with all the blood that filled it, the edges were ragged and torn and the skin around it inflamed already. It was still bleeding sluggishly. That wasn't good, too much blood lost. When Doyle looked up at his partner Bodie was white as a sheet, his blue eyes almost black in contrast. Damn, he had to get him help quickly. When the wound was as clean as possible under the circumstances he put a pressure pad on it and pressed down. Bodie groaned.

 

"I know. Here hold it down for me."

 

Bodie glared at him, showing his displeasure at the idea but clumsily raised his hand and complied. He thumped his head against the car with the pain of it and stiffened.

 

Doyle hurried to unwind the gauze, wrapped it tightly around the wound and tied it off.

 

Bodie panted through the pain. Eyes closed, lashes fanned out on his pale cheeks. "There, done" Doyle said, voice strangely hoarse. "What about your ribs, they broken?"

 

Bodie shook his head without opening his eyes.

 

"Nah, think they're just cracked."

 

"Want me to wrap 'em?"

 

Bodie looked at him then.

 

"No. Just get me out of here, yeah?"

 

Doyle nodded. With combined effort they managed to get Bodie on the backseat. Doyle bunched up his jacket for him to lay his head on and Bodie accepted it with a fleeting smile.

 

Doyle got in and got them on the road again. Her surreptitiously checked the rearview mirror, but there was no sign of anyone following them. He took great care in driving as fast he could while keeping the movement of the car smooth on the empty road, so that he wouldn't cause Bodie unnecessary pain by jolting him around. Bodie was quiet in the back seat and only the shallowness of his breath told Doyle off the pain he was working hard to keep under control.

 

It took him an hour and a half to reach the base. It was locked down for the night and only a solitary soldier kept watch at the gate. He was very suspicious of his unknown visitors especially since neither he nor Bodie had any identification on them, least of all their CI5 IDs. Eventually, after heroic feats of persuasion by Doyle he agreed to contact his superior, who contacted Cowley, who gave them the all clear and while he was at it Doyle an earful for having botched the mission. Doyle heard the old man out quietly if impatiently, anxious to get back to Bodies side. The military personnel they encountered was curt and disgruntled, probably because they didn't like being ordered around by civvies, Dolye thought to himself, but at least they were efficient and careful in handling Bodie, who by now had a most tenuous grasp on consciousness.

It was almost dawn again when they finally were on board a helicopter towards London and the state-of-the-art CI5 hospital. Doyle was dead tired, but he kept his eyes open and his grip on his partners hand unrelenting.

 

The rest of the journey passed in a blur of seeing Bodie taken safely to hospital, harassing doctors until they told him, that his partner was going to be alright, braving the wrath of the cow over the less then stellar conclusion of the mission, reporting every last detail off the case and organizing the raid on the terrorist cell.

 

Through it all the memory of Bodies mouth around his cock, of the tears in his eyes replayed itself in his mind over and over again, driving him nearly insane. Finally even Cowley showed some pity and sent him home.

 

Doyle swung by the hospital on his way, making his unsteady way through silent corridors smelling of disinfectant. The nurse had been there when they'd brought Bodie in and she let him pass with a nod and a smile. It was only as he stood in front of Bodies bed, saw him lying in a drug induced sleep, his face as white was the sheets, unmoving, that he realized the enormity of what had happened. He might have ruined the best partnership he'd ever had, lost his only real friend. He swallowed down the bile that rose at that thought alone and just stared at Bodie for a while. Looked his share. He is beautiful, the thought came unbidden, and his hand, as if with a mind of its own rose to caress the sculpted cheek. Just before his fingers touched skin he jolted back as if stung. Abruptly he turned and without a backward glance left.

 

Two weeks later, Bodie had just been cleared for duty again, they were called to Cowleys office.

 

They'd both been honest in their reports and had left nothing out. Cowley looked at them for a long moment before he spoke.

 

"Are you lads going to be alright?"

 

Doyle nodded.

 

"Yes, sir." Was Bodies quiet reply.

 

Cowley nodded.

 

"Good. Now get out, I have work to do."

 

They wasted no time.

 

__________________________________

 

It was a few weeks later when Doyle started to doubt their bold statement made in the Cows office.

 

Now that he thought back a bit, there had been little signs that something was off. It was little stuff at first. The shadows under Bodies eyes, like he couldn't sleep. The cessation of the affectionate physical contact Bodie used to give so freely. The way it seemed he'd drawn an invisible line around Doyle and sworn to himself not to pass it. Doyle hadn't given it much thought at first. Thought just giving Bodie some time would get things back to normal. After all Bodie still seemed to enjoy his company, and Doyle thought that he would have let him know in no uncertain terms, probably with his fists, if what had happened between them was still an issue. And maybe, he thought now, I was just a coward and didn't want to see that Bodie was suffering. Because of me.

 

Today Bodies distance from Doyle had almost cost them both. Their instinctive knowledge of where the other half of the team was, at all times, had deserted them and left them almost shooting each other. Not to mention that they'd lost their baddie of the week. Cowley was not impressed. In fact he was livid.

 

"You have two days to sort out this mess between you. Two days, you hear me!"

____________________________________________

 

Bodie killed the engine, but was reluctant to get out of the car. He sat, hands clenching the steering wheel. He felt Doyle's gaze on him and wished himself to be anywhere but here. The thought alone of going into Doyle's flat was suffocating, at least the car gave him the illusion of control, the fanciful notion that he could just step on the gas and vanish.

 

"Doyle, I'm sorry. I..."

 

"You? You shouldn't be sorry, you should be mad!"

"Doyle..."

"I mean it was me who did ... who got us into this mess!"

 

"Doyle!"

 

Doyle looked at him, his eyes wide.

 

"Just hear me out, will you?"

 

Doyle heaved a sight, but nodded.

 

For a second Bodie thought about taking the easy way out of this mess, just say what everybody seemed to think was the problem anyway, confess to some kind of trauma after what Doyle had done. But he couldn't. His voice was breaking when he said the words that would damn him.

 

"I liked it. I liked it and I've been dreaming about it..."

 

"Bullshit!"

 

"I mean obviously not the audience, not the pain. But you. I mean being with you, I enjoyed it and I'm sorry but I can't get it out of my head."

 

"No. I don't believe you. I saw you cry when I did it, Bodie."

 

Bodie looked at him with a sharp gaze. Doyle met his gaze unblinking and Bodie deflated with a sigh. It was no use. Doyle in one of these moods wouldn't give up until he knew the whole darn truth. With his right hand Bodie wiped across his face, hiding for just a second in the dark, gathering his strength. Then he let it fall to his lap, resigned and looked at Doyle again.

 

"I love you." The look on Doyles face was one of such stunned incredulity that Bodie would have found it hilarious if anything about this situation was even remotely funny. Now that he'd started it he realized that he just wished it over with.

 

"Have loved you for a long time, you know. Wanted you longer. About broke my heart to know that the closest I'd probably ever come to it was there on that dirty floor, surrounded by that vile scum and about to die a very messy death."

 

Bodie chanced another glance at his probably soon to be ex-partner.

 

"I'm sorry, Doyle, I really am. I wish I could have kept it in, forget what happened and just carry on like usual. But now that I know ... now that I tasted ... Christ this is hard."

 

Bodie heaved another sigh.

 

"I just can't stop thinking about it. I kept such a tight lid on it all those years and now it's like it's popped and I can't get it back on. I'm sorry."

 

The silence between them grew heavy and uncomfortable, suffocating. Until Bodie exploded.

 

"Come on Doyle, say something! Don't want to work with me anymore? That's fine, I'll go and explain to Cowley. Resign." The last muttered under his breath. He wished so hard that it wouldn't come to that. Somehow thinking that the problem lay not really in wanting Ray, because he had always wanted him, knew how to work around that. The problem had been keeping it secret around his nosy ex-copper friend. If only Ray could forgive him he was sure they could work things out.

 

"So you love me, eh?" Doyles voice sounded broken, unbelieving.

"Bodie, is this some kind of joke?"

 

The look he got for that would have killed lesser men.

 

"Ok, sorry, it's just... this is a lot to wrap my head around, mate!"

 

Bodie looked away like a scolded kid, seeming to draw in on himself. This more than anything convinced Doyle. Bodie rarely ever showed himself this vulnerable

It blew Doyle's mind. The bastard really believed it himself. Well, who would have thought.

 

He had fancied Bodie when they first met, but as soon as it had become clear that they were to be partnered, he hadn’t allowed himself to follow up on it. But he could see the appeal, had drawn on it that night. Reveling in that pale expanse of skin that he knew from dressing Bodies wounds often enough was smoother than any mans had a right to be. His blue eyes, so expressive when they wanted to be, so cold sometimes. Not now though. Now they were ... he looked at Bodie, really looked, like he hadn't dared since that night. He looked completely open, bared. He was beautiful. Doyle gulped.

And it had felt good. And if he was completely honest with himself, he couldn't get it out of his head either. Only the problem with it was, that for him his fantasies now not only featured Bodie on his knees, sucking him off, some innocent fun between friends, but sometimes included the blood, and the pain.

 

Well, love. He didn't know about that. Didn't know if that was a concept Bodie even understood. Mabye he would be cured of that fanciful notion if he got what he seemed to have been pining for for such a long time. For a man like Bodie, being denied thus was probably a most uncommon experience. Maybe the poor sod actually thought that that was love. Well, only one way to find out. Doyle suppressed a snigger at the thought that Cowley probably hadn't had this in mind when he told them to clean up their act.

 

"I've thought about it, too, you know. Why don't we take it slow, huh? Start with one night? Show me what you want?"

 

Bodie looked at him as if struck. Doyle smiled.

 

"Come on, mate. Let's get out of this car for a start."

 

When Bodie still seemed hesitant to move he prodded him again.

 

"Come on, show me then."

 

Bodie was stunned. He had poured his heart out to Doyle, secrets he had been sure would have his partner running from him as fast as he could, and Doyle didn't even blink, took it all in stride and suggested more.

 

He closed his mouth, suddenly aware that it was hanging open.

 

"Ok."

 

He didn't recognize his own voice, not at all the suave tones of his usual baritone, but something far more desperate. Excitement and sudden terror coursed through him in equal measure, leaving him slightly shivery and his hands cold and sweaty. He wiped them absently on his pants and got out hastily got out of the car. Doyle followed close behind and Bodies heart sped up. It was really going to happen. He almost fumbled the key in the lock and he could see Doyle smirk good-naturedly. It did interesting things to his insides, made them feel like mush. They stumbled up the stairs to Bodies apartment and hurried inside. Bodie closed the door, put the locks in place and when he turned Doyle just stood there in his living rook, an unreadable look on his face, his green eyes piercing him and seeming to look into the deepest recesses of his soul. Bodie shuddered. What if he fucked it up. What if Doyle wanted nothing more of him after this night. Found him disgusting afterwards. He knew that once he had felt Doyle, all of him, he would not be able to let it go, to forget, to un-see and un-feel and this thought scared him like nothing much could. He did not want to loose Doyle if this blew up in his face after all. But he couldn't not try, couldn't turn back now that it already stood between them.

 

With hesitant steps he came closer, lifted his hand and gently traced it down Doyles cheek. A deep felt sigh escaped him at the relief that just this tiny, innocent touch brought him. And suddenly he felt himself shiver. He knew he had been in deep, but this was fast approaching absurd levels of devotion and he froze. He felt like the first time he had jumped out of a plane with the paras, only now he was sure, he had no parachute with him. He chided himself for being a coward and gently lay his lips on Doyles. It was like heaven. It was like finally coming home and a warm light spread through him. Doyle responded slowly, drawing the moment out, his lips dry and warm, his mouth welcoming.

Bodie wanted to crush Doyle to himself, to just hold on tight and never let go like a little child. At the same time he needed this to be good, the best that Doyle had ever had. Show him that he was good, that he was worth it. But gone was the suave seducer he prided himself to be and instead he felt shy and self-conscious like he hadn't for years.

He hesitated, was about to draw back, but Doyle seemed to be aware of what was happening and stepped closer, right into Bodies personal space and kissed him deep. Hugged him close and held him in strong arms. After what felt like eternity but could only have been minutes he released Bodie and stepped around him stroking across one broad shoulder, plastered himself to his back and nuzzled his neck. Bodie sighed and some of the tension leached out of his frame. Doyle gently nudged him in the direction of the bedroom and docile like a kitten Bodie went. It was this more than anything that suddenly made Doyle's jeans much too tight and he had to stop and adjust himself before he could follow his partner into the bedroom. Bodie stood in front of the bed his back to the door and didn't move. Doyle went around him and saw him looking lost. He gently and slowly reached out a hand, giving Bodie enough time to react and when he didn't push him away he unbuttoned his crisp white shirt. How he managed to keep them that way even after botched operations he'd never know. He tugged it down and revealed the smooth expanse of white skin his partner usually hid behind layers and layers of clothes. He stroked across his back, his chest, the flat muscled stomach, reveling in the satiny feel of it, while Bodie stood still, head slightly bent and if Doyle didn't know him better, he'd say shy. Doyle moved around to Bodies back, wanting to see all of him and once there couldn't resist the bent neck. In between gentle strokes he let his mouth descend on the delicate juncture of neck and shoulder and bit, hard. An aborted whimper escaped Bodies mouth, and with it something seemed to uncoil in him and shiver through him. He melted against him. Doyle's own chest expanded at this gesture of trust. Sure they had to trust each other on the job, but this was different, he got to see deep inside Bodie as no one had ever dared and it gave him a heady feeling, made him greedy for more. He pressed his cock tightly against his partners backside, grinding against him, showing him how hard he had got him and Bodie seemed to jolt like hit by an electric current at that first real touch, that foreshadowed what they were about to do. Doyle moaned in pleasure. Not in a million years would he have thought that it would be like this. His macho Bodie, always cool, always in control, undone by the simplest touch and letting him see it. His own hesitation, grounded in the fear that Bodie would expect him to lie back and take it like one of his girls, knowing that he just couldn't do that, couldn't be that, even for Bodie, vanished, leaving him high and elated. This was heaven, this was all he had ever whished for without knowing it. And he delved right in.

He let his hands wander down, across Bodies groin and laid a possessive hand on him, ground him back against his own hardness. He could feel Bodie respond in kind, his cock growing and hardening in his grip, while he kissed and nuzzled and bit his neck, feeling like he would never get enough of the clean taste that was just Bodie. With Dolye standing behind him there wasn't much Bodie could do and eventually he just reached back and steadied himself on Doyle's slender hips. When Doyle had marked Bodies neck to his satisfaction he turned the other man in the direction of the bed, never leaving his back, staying pressed up against him and with his own body guided him down on it. God, the sight of Bodie, kneeling on it on all fours, bare but for his black slacks, dark head bent, made his mouth water. He let his whole weight rest on him while he kept on stroking him. Bodie moaned and Doyle finally took pity on him. Deftly he opened the belt and pulled the zipper down. Bodies cock greeted his hands eagerly and he let them dwell there for a while, relishing the sounds he could draw from his stoic partner, his own cock nestled against his ass. He felt like he could do this for ages, but his own cock was starting to feel decidedly strangled in his tight jeans and since he didn't fancy coming in them he took pity on them both. With a heart-felt sigh he moved back enough to be able to draw Bodies pants off him completely and then guided his partner down to lay flat on the bed, while he dealt with his own cloths swiftly.

Loathe to speak, afraid to break the mood, the spell that seemed to have the both of them tight in it's grip, he nevertheless knew they'd need it.

"Got something for lube?"

Blue eyes looked at him, dark like the night-sky and luminous like the stars.

"Bedside drawer."

Bodies voice was soft and open and it coursed through Dolye's insides like a satin band, renewing his vigor, making it sheer impossible to just hold Bodie down and fuck him raw, but he just about managed. He stumbled over to the drawer and almost dumped it on the floor in his haste to get to the lube. Finally, he had it in his grip and with one fluid move he got up on the bed beside Bodie. He took a deep breath, anchoring himself and leaned over Bodie, pressing a light, reassuring kiss into his nape. He let his hand glide down the elegant back till it rested lightly on his butt, happy to feel it's slight swell in his palm. A feeling he could definitely get used to. He drifted lower and gently pushed slender, muscled thighs slightly apart, making room for himself. He put one knee in the space, straddling one leg and opened the lube. He poured a generous amount into his hands, warmed it and set to opening Bodie up. It had been a long time, since he had done this to another man, but he found that you never really forgot. It had never felt as good as this though, as doing it to Bodie. Bodie, who was by now desperately clinging to the sheets, twisting them around his fingers, while his smooth channel yielded under Doyles touch. A slight sheen of sweat had begun to form on his back and Doyle leaned down and licked it. He savored the taste, slightly salty, slightly musky and glorious. When he had three fingers slipping in and out of the hole with ease he pulled them out, accompanied by a strangled sob from Bodie, and wiped them on the sheets. While he had imagined taking his partner from behind, thinking it hot and also easy on them both, he now found that he couldn't. He laid one hand on Bodies shoulder.

 

"Love, could you turn round for me?"

 

Bodie acquiesced and Doyle drank in the sight highlighted by the greyish light of Dawn and the first Street -lamps coming on. Bodies pupils were shot wide, his color high and his hair stood up in in small dark tufts. His prick was gorgeous; it's dull shade of red contrasting the sheer whiteness of the rest of him, beckoning to touch, to taste. Doyle groaned as his mouth watered. This was like a feast laid out and he didn't know where to start first. He so much wanted to lick Bodie, take him in his mouth completely, but knew that if he did that it would be over too soon for both of them. He just hoped he would get another chance at this. He had to make sure somehow that he would, he couldn't stand the thought of being denied this ever again. With an unholy light in his eyes he raised Bodies legs slightly to the sides. He found his hole with his prick and looking into his friends eyes he had to ask one last time.

 

"Ok?"

 

Bodie just nodded and lifted himself up, helping him ease in. Nothing but their panting breaths could be heard for a while as they both adjusted. Doyle leaned over him and Bodie gripped his arms tight. Slowly the unbearable pressure eased and Doyle glid in completely. It was like his heart was in the tight grip of Bodies body right with his cock. Doyle kissed the waiting, panting mouth beneath him, fumblingly found Bodies cock with his one hand while he supported his weight on his other arm, fingers curled around Bodies hair and drew out slowly to pound back in. It was so good, so tight that he knew it couldn't last, even though he wanted it to last forever. He kept a tight hold of himself, kissing Bodie until they both ran out of air and then some more, when all he wanted to do was to scream out his release to the Universe. Just when he felt he couldn't hold out any longer the body beneath him bucked and hot fluid spilled over his hand. Doyle smothered Bodies moans and sobs with his kiss, drawing them all into himself only to erupt seconds later into pure bliss, his bodies muscles protracting endlessly until he slumped down on his partner, spent.

 

He was roused out of his glowing stupor by the slight hitching in the breath that mingled with his own. He opened one sleepy eye and saw Bodies squeezed shut and his impossibly long, black lashed clumped together in spikes. He wanted to raise himself up, afraid that he had hurt him after all, but Bodies arms clamped around him like steel bands and wouldn't let go. And then Doyle understood. This wasn't about pain at all, at least not of the body. How he could have been so blind to the true depths of the emotions his friend carried for him he in this moment couldn't imagine. His own heart broke a little as he beheld the anguish mirrored in the beloved face. And he could call himself all kinds of stupid that he had not noticed before how great his own love for his berk of a partner was. It wouldn't do for him to be so sad, now that Doyle was so happy, now that he'd found all he'd ever searched for, loyalty, devotion, love right in front of him.

He bent down and kissed the tears from Bodies face.

  
"Sh, sh, sh, love. It's ok. It's all gonna be ok. Shh. I love you Bodie. I love you."

 

At those words the arms gripped him impossibly tighter and a shuddering, heaving sob tore out of Bodie. He hid his face in Doyle's neck and Doyle clung on for all he was worth, mumbling sweet nothings into Bodies ear.

 

It was dark when Bodies breathing evened out and the death-like grip eased. Doyle stayed where he was, blanketing his lover’s body with his own, shielding it from the world.

 

"I meant it, you know. I love you Bodie."

 

And finally with a last shuddering sigh Bodie relaxed.

 

 


End file.
